Operation Trickery: Deception During Wwii

By James Howell

Operation Trickery is a book or historical fiction about World War II. It is intended to present another side of a savage war that killed millions and destroyed much of Europe. War is often complicated yet simple. Some battles were won or lost by the smallest error or deception. Some incidents were classified until 2005. Some rather horrible incidents were humorous in their intent and result. The book is about civilian soldiers thrown into battle sometimes with no purpose but to obey orders. It is about those decisions and quick responses that often are the difference between life and death. The characters are typical of most soldiers during the war and wish only to stop fighting and go home to their sweethearts and loved ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796066463

James Howell

James Howell is a retired sales executive now living in Georgetown, Texas. He served in the Army between the Korean and Vietnam wars when the Cold War was at it’s hottest. He has a fascination for military history and tries to stay true to facts while writing fiction. His first three books are about the race to build the first atomic bomb. The first and hopefully the last time a nuclear weapon has been used in combat. Thankfully, the war ended with the detonation of the bomb over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, thus saving millions of combatant and private lives. Operation Trickery is about the small battles and deception that helped win the war in Europe months ahead of the end of the war in the Pacific.

Book preview

Chapter 1

90 MILES FROM NOWHERE

Blake Runnels and Nate Simmons were sleeping off a beer drunk when the telephone began to ring. The ringing was loud enough to shake the rafters in the ceiling of the small cabin. It was three o’clock in the morning of April 10, 1941. The fishermen were in their cabin near the Gila Wilderness in Southwestern New Mexico, 90 miles from nowhere.

Blake uncovered his head just long enough to shout at Nate, It’s for you! He didn’t know who was calling, but he did know he did not want to crawl out of his warm bedroll, cross the 10 feet of cold wooden floor just to answer the annoying telephone. It was too cold, too early, too dark, and too everything to answer the damn ringing nuisance.

Early April in the Cibola National Forest was beautiful but cold. Snow falls above 7,000 feet this time of year, but the mountain streams were already full of hungry trout. The cold clear water was the best breeding ground for young trout, and they were biting at wintered bugs as they began to appear.

Nate ripped the cover off his bedroll and bound across the cold cabin floor to grab the black telephone receiver. In the dark and cold, Nate’s reaction was automatic. It had been eleven years since he left the navy. He was a navy special services leader, and he learned quickly to react without thinking or to consider the consequences. In his haste to respond quickly, he became freezing cold. It didn’t take long for him to realize he had been had by his old friend Blake hiding under the warm covers. He and Blake were friends for more years than he could remember. The two friends were journalists for the Mountain Mail, a monthly newsletter that served the mountainous region around Socorro and Magdalena, New Mexico. The paper began publishing the Mail in 1893 and had closed unexpectedly recently, leaving the pair unemployed. It was rumored that a new owner was to reopen the paper soon.

Although Nate was angry and cold, he decided to answer the still-ringing telephone. Who is this? he barked into the cold receiver.

Good morning, Nate. This is Colonel Powers. It was a pleasant response to Nate’s rude question. How are you? What are you doing in the wilderness?

Oh sorry, sir, I have a headache, and it’s cold, and we are fishing.

What do you have planned for the day? Colonel Powers asked.

Blake and I are trout fishing. It’s cold, dark, and I am going back to bed for another week to get rid of this beer hangover.

Colonel Powers pleaded. I need you both again for an Alsos mission to travel to the beautiful Mediterranean … There was a short pause before he continued. Forget the trout. We have bigger fish to fry. I need you and Blake to meet me in Houston on the twelfth.

What is so important that we should drop our fishing trip and meet you in Houston? Nate responded while rubbing his throbbing temples.

I’m sorry, old friend, Colonel Powers said in desperation. This is not an order from the army, it’s from your old commander. A civilian organization is needing our help in the North Africa campaign. They have a couple of little jobs and secret missions that you should enjoy. Especially the scenery and food … Another pause followed with no response from Nate. You will enjoy the surroundings, and it shouldn’t be dangerous. I just need your eyes and ears to record the missions.

Did you say it shouldn’t be dangerous? Nate asked. That is what you said about our last little job that almost got us killed several times … After another pause, Nate continued. Anyway, you haven’t said the magic word yet.

Colonel Powers smiled into the receiver and said the magic word. All right, PLEASE, and I owe you a beer and hamburger.

Tell me more about this little job. I’ll have to discuss it with Blake before we agree to meet with you.

It’s classified. I can’t tell you more about the mission until I meet with you in Houston. I can tell you the mission is critical to driving the Axis powers out of North Africa and to invade Mainland Europe … Powers paused before pleading with Nate. I really need your help, and I need an answer now.

I can’t speak for Blake, but I will be there, Nate responded. I bet Blake will be there too since he and Vivian are fighting again. That’s why we’re fishing.

Nate ended his conversation with Powers and slipped back into his bedroll. He hadn’t been in bed thirty seconds before Blake uncovered his head to ask who was calling. Nate blurted out the name of Powers and continued to try to go back to sleep.

What did he want? Blake asked.

I’ll tell you in the morning. Go back to sleep. Nate answered before falling to sleep.

The sun rises early at 7,000 feet in the Cibola National Forest. The Beaverhead Ranger station next to Blake’s cabin is just below the tree line, and the aspen were still dormant. The snow is beginning to melt, but wouldn’t keep the two fishermen from fishing. They had plenty of beer antifreeze.

Blake’s aunt Anabel built the cabin in 1930 as part of her two-section homestead that straddled the Continental Divide in the Pelona Mountains. She deserted the cabin and homestead after two cold winters at 9,200 feet elevation and moved back to Oklahoma and more comfortable temperatures. The cabin remained deserted for several years until she donated it to the Beaverhead Ranger Station for a fire lookout. The rangers built a 110-foot steel tower next to the cabin to watch for forest fires in the Cibola National Forest and Gila Wilderness. From the top of the tower, a person could see traffic on US Highway 60, some 55 miles north.

A telephone in the area is rare. The only use of the instrument is to report forest fires to officials in Socorro and Las Cruces or to make emergency calls to ranger station personnel. Blake convinced the Beaverhead Ranger Station supervisor to allow the two anglers access to the cabin during the off season in exchange for watching for forest fires while they fish. The cabin isn’t much, but it did shield the two men from the wind and cold nights. It is vacant during the winter and reopened in June for the summer, when most fires occurred caused by lightning strikes. Arson is virtually unheard of in these mountains.

To occupy their time, they fished for trout. They spent half their time fishing and the other half drinking beer and watching for forest fires from the tower. Wheeled vehicles are not permitted in the Gila Wilderness. In the nearby Cibola National Forest, there are no camping facilities, which limited the vacationing traffic. It is quiet and isolated—just the way they liked it.

It is 90 miles to a doctor or hospital in Magdalena.

Blake recalled the book his aunt had written in 1932 titled 90 Miles from Nowhere. The title was fitting for the location, isolated and bordering the Gila Wilderness where the Gila Indian Cliff Dwellings were abandoned hundreds of years earlier.

Blake couldn’t sleep after hearing that Colonel Powers had called. He could not imagine how the colonel found them in the forest. He had not told anyone, except his wife Vivian, that he and Nate were going fishing. Nate also confirmed that he had not told anyone of their trip. He finally deduced that Powers had called his home in Socorro where Vivian gave him the number to the ranger station. He was missing his wife even though they had fought over something he couldn’t remember. It was always something insignificant. All the deep thinking finally resulted in short spells of fitful sleep.

The next morning Blake was up early to make some coffee and cook some eggs and fresh trout. Nate could not resist the aroma of trout on the fire and fresh coffee. He finally climbed out of bed and approached Blake at the fireplace. Smells great—trout, coffee, eggs, and biscuits. If you were prettier, I would marry you.

Don’t get your hopes up, I have better taste than a navy swab. Blake responded while pouring himself a second cup of coffee and one for Nate.

What did Powers want last night? Blake asked. Did he want us to do something for him that would get us killed?

You are very perceptive this morning, Nate answered. He needs us to meet him in Houston on the twelfth for a little trip to the Mediterranean.

Are you kidding? He must be out of his mind if he thinks I will drop everything and join him on one of his crazy missions. I’ve had enough war games. Let someone else do his dirty work.

I knew you felt that way, Nate responded. I have already planned our trip to Houston and told Powers that you would be there, especially since you and Vivian are fighting again. Nate explained as he moved away from Blake, yielding the heavy frying pan.

If I didn’t have the last piece of trout in this pan, I would find a place to put it where you would never smile again, Blake responded. The only reason I would agree to meet with Powers is to avoid more fighting with Vivian, Blake continued. You knew that before you committed me anyway, didn’t you?

Chapter 2

SAN FRANCISCO: IT STARTED HERE

Colonel Powers made two calls in San Francisco: the first to Dino Tanaka and second to John Anello. Both men worked with the Alsos mission in the past and were needed again.

Currently, John was working with the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the Northern California area, while Dino lives and works in Sacramento as a journalist. Both men served with the mission in Europe, where they were assigned to work with the Italian resistance and the Chinese Army in Korea as journalists and, occasionally, as saboteurs and kidnappers—not exactly the work of either a journalist or civil servant.

Convincing John and Dino to rejoin the Alsos mission would not be easy. It was dangerous working with the Italian underground and especially the Chinese Army. Colonel Powers knew he could not order either of the men to join him in the mission, but he also knew they were desperately needed. In addition, he knew both men made many close friends in Italy and China and even a long-distance love affair with a beautiful Italian underground leader. Both men would probably decline an offer to rejoining the mission based on friendship alone. He needed a little leverage.

Colonel Powers contacted both John’s and Dino’s supervisors in Washington and Sacramento before contacting the two men to explain their absences and the importance of their assignments. Both supervisors agreed to allow them to take extended vacations but could not order them to accept the invitation. Both supervisors were told nothing of their assignments, except that they were top secret and very important to the advancement of the Allied forces in the war.

It was time to contact John and Dino.

Don’t answer the phone.

John was at home when the telephone rang. His lovely roommate made him answer anyway. Hello, this is John Anello. Who may I say is calling?

Surprised at the formality of John’s telephone manner, Colonel Powers answered.

Hi, John, this is Colonel Powers. How are you? What have you been doing?

Good morning, Colonel. It is good to hear from you. Are you enjoying your new Washington job? The response came effortlessly, like talking to an old friend, but John felt uncomfortable and did not know why. He was still in bed with a headache from last night’s party. What can I do for you, Colonel?

I’m glad you asked, I have a favor to ask, Powers responded. Can you meet me at Duce’s Diner in an hour?

Sure, I can, if you agree to buy breakfast and if you promise to keep me out of the war, and what is so important that we can’t discuss it over the telephone?

It’s classified, John.

John agreed to meet at the café in an hour. He was reluctant at first but knew he could not refuse Colonel Powers’ request. After hearing of the mission. It was an offer John had wanted since his last Alsos mission assignment—another mission into enemy territory with the likelihood of active combat and shelling, foreigners and friendly people alike firing various deadly weapons at you, the horrible living conditions and often no food or canned food. Powers could not promise to keep him safe and out of the war, but he did promise him exotic travel, better food, and even some old friends to keep him company.

John reluctantly accepted Powers’ proposal because he felt compelled to help in the war effort. He was comfortable working with the FBI in California and did not relish the extended travel and possible enemy fire, but he accepted when Powers described the personnel involved, especially his friend Dino.

I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone, John